Глава 11

Would you have said yes, if she truly invited you to leave?

Clovisia?

The walls of Londinium are tall. Few are able to escape their shadow.

But you did. You escaped the palace, and escaped Londinium. Perhaps Allerdale envies you because of that.

She has forced herself to carry the Cumberland name for twenty years.

But you're different. You thought about leaving your name behind, didn't you?

...I can't deny that.

But I'm here now, regardless of what I thought.

Victoria is on the brink right now, and I must fight for her.

...Victoria.

Kings, nobles, merchants, soldiers, workers...

People often use the word 'Victoria' to justify their actions, but it has done nothing to quell the endless conflict over the centuries.

Who defines what Victoria is? Is it the sixty nomadic cities and the land around them, the forty million people that live within, or the monarch who rules them?

Your Royal Highness Alexandrina Vina Victoria.

Why have you come back, when you say you came back for Victoria?

The noble mansions have been burned to the ground. Wonder how many survivors there are...

The Sarkaz are planning something big, and the Defense Forces aren't trying to hide it anymore.

This street may never be the same again.

Golding knows that the visit from the commander means her identity is no longer a secret.

She wanders the streets aimlessly, filled with a deep feeling of helplessness.

Perhaps it was always futile for humans to fight the tide.

Adams's bookstore is open, but the familiar warm, yellow light is absent. Golding has a bad feeling.

The bookstore is empty, but the smell of blood fills every corner, so thick it might as well have taken physical form.

Golding realizes that the ground is sticky.

Not just the ground. The counter, the cashier, the books on the shelves, and the teapot that Adams always has by his side.

Everything has been painted a shade of light red.

Blood.

The nausea that has been bothering Golding for days explodes uncontrollably.

She runs out onto the streets and begins to vomit.

Are you okay?

Ugh—*cough*

...Molly.

You don't look well. Here, take my shoulder.

We still have time, Lady Golding. Your part is not over yet.

You said that education was your strength, didn't you?

My strength...

Let's go back.

We've persevered for so long. We'll see this to the end.

I'm counting on you.

Don't worry, we'll get our new friends to the base safely.

You're not coming with us?

I have another mission.

Your grandson is a pretty big deal in the Corps, after all.

Real big deals don't usually boast about it.

Oh, and I have to return this, Granny.

Your badge.

I'm not a worker anymore. I shouldn't be wearing this outside.

Being smart isn't enough to fool death. Those who are gone will never come back, and the wounds left behind do not necessarily fade with time.

But I don't want to spend night after night in regret, staring at machines with no one to use them.

Because...

I will go into each and every night.

I will carry the torch left behind by those who are gone and keep walking.

Until the cold is driven out, and the path ahead is no longer dark. And even then, I'll keep walking.

Not for some ethereal hope, not because I'm still waiting for someone to make a stand for us.

You said it, that we built Londinium with our own hands.

Even if the city is reduced to rubble tomorrow, we'll start rebuilding it the day after.

Feist says all that in one breath.

His words are met with silence, but he finds that the silence no longer makes him anxious.

A thought comes mind as he gazes upon his grandmother, standing by the production line.

When did her hair turn so white?

Huff...

Go, if your mind's made up.

Let me see.

Bye, Granny.

Feist!

Feist glimpses a small card flying towards him from the corner of his eye.

It is the badge that he just returned.

He smiles.

I'll be back, Granny.

With victory.

I know you'll be proud of me, so there's no need to say it.

What I really want you to know is...

I'll be proud of this factory, no matter where I go in the future.

And... you too.

Also, I've thought about the question you asked.

The things that disappointed you so much, the betrayal, the suspicions, people who just can't work together... I know we'll have to face them again.

But if knowing that means we have to abandon our trust in others... then we won't survive this war.

We have to face it sooner or later, win or lose.

One more thing.

I've never seen inside the suit of a Steam Knight, but I'll always remember the silhouette hammering away by the production line.

You've always been my hero, and you always will be.

Hehe...

Bye, for real, before this gets too awkward.

Bang. Clang. Bang.

The production line keeps running, as though nothing has ever changed.

...Brat.

Feist hears a familiar sigh from deep inside the factory.

He waves without looking back, and walks into the sunlight outside.

Vina!

Did I fall sleep?

You're lucky to be out for just a little bit after your injuries.

Siege, Self-Salvation Corps reinforcements have arrived. This place is relatively safe. Rest well; we'll be at your side.

Mm...

She scans the faces of her friends.

Everyone is bruised and battered, just as she is. But they are alive, and there is still hope in their eyes.

Except...

...Allerdale.

The door to the Mausoleum of Kings has closed once again.

The Sarkaz have noticed the sound of the Steam Knight, and they must have guessed that the Sighs of Kings has left its home. They're sending men to the palace.

Our scouts have tried to get close to the entrance, but there has been no sign of Allerdale.